The road wound through the mountain like a ribbon, following
the landscape’s natural curves and revealing massive, tranquil beauty around
every bend. Trees encroached on one side, making a fiery half-arch with their
fall colors. The cracked windows brought us those smells so unfamiliar to the
city: fresh air, trees, and the occasional whiff of horse. It was as though
other people were absent from the world.
John Denver faded; I turned to my wife; she rolled her eyes.
The song was already playing again, and we launched into the eerie single-voice
harmony that only married couples seem to achieve.
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